Winter. Tired. Feeling that there isn't a purpose to things. Post car-crash? Maybe. Maybe not. Photography offered salvation a while ago but doesn't now; maybe the feeling will return. I hope so.
29 December 2015
“It's possible, in a poem or a short story, to write about commonplace things and objects using commonplace but precise language, and to endow those things-- a chair, a window curtain, a fork, a stone, a woman's earring-- with immense, even startling power. It is possible to write a line of seemingly innocuous dialogue and have it send a chill along the reader's spine-- the source of artistic delight, as Nabokov would have it. That's the kind of writing that most interests me.”
It's the kind of photography that most interests me. The thing is, though, I'm not sure that one's own pictures can produce the effect one is hoping to produce in others - too much extra information is available, too much is known about how I did it, what I've done in post, the techniques involved. I wonder if Daido Moriyama is trying to produce the effect in himself by working relentlessly, endlessly, producing so much work he doesn't have time to dwell on a few pictures in the way that I do? I constantly go back to work and re-work it, look at it anew, see if I have missed anything, see if I can squeeze something else out of it... Almost certainly, I need to take more pictures. Many, many more pictures. And think about Art more. Think about what life is for, what I want to say. You can't speak from the grave.
"As individuals and as a nation, we now suffer from social narcissism. The beloved echo of our ancestors, the virgin America, has been abandoned. We have fallen in love with our own image, with images of our making, which turn out to be images of ourselves."
[Many of the recent quotes on Mrs Lemon's come from http://photoquotations.com/ ].